


The Rite Place, The Rite Time

by dianekepler



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: (in more ways than one), (not by any means), Awkwardness, F/M, First Time, Gangbang, Humor, LITERALLY, PWP, and happy endings, but our lady is no trembling rosebud, crazy brotherhood logic, danse is danse, defloration, except yeah okay it is, fuck the patriarchy, kinkmeme fill, maxson is a perv, not really - Freeform, rhys is still an asshole, straight characters are entirely straight this time, unexpected and startling fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8837146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianekepler/pseuds/dianekepler
Summary: A virgin in the field is unthinkable — casualties are bad enough, but what if some raider or ghoul were to sully that pure human body? Brothers and sister, your objective is clear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [This delightful prompt](http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/7011.html?thread=20248675#t20248675) just stole my heart away. It made me write 5200 words in one sitting — unheard of for slow-typing, thesaurus-munching, over-considering D. No delusions of grandeur with this one, just pure fun. And [Stefania Ferrario](https://kepl3rian.tumblr.com/post/154415061322/fic-incoming) as a muse. Heh.

They were waiting for a vertibird to take them up. Rhys and Danse were having some über-serious discussion about a weapon one or the other of them had seen the last recon team bring in. Drew couldn’t follow the specifics. That left the girl as the only person to talk to. 

Woman, Drew reminded himself. Initiate Camelia walked like one, talked like one, and was sure as hell built like one. But she wasn’t fully one in a way that seemed to matter a whole hell of a lot to this militarized techno-cult and their pouty emperor with the bruised look around his eyes. If Drew lived to be as old as the Vault-Tec rep, he would never understand these Brotherhood stiffs. But if they could help him find his son, Drew was willing to put up with a few shenanigans, including this bizarre deal involving a virgin and two other dudes.

Cammi, as he’d secretly dubbed her one point seven seconds after they’d met, had hazel eyes with the kind of clarity Drew saw a lot in the Brotherhood. Also in Hancock on orange mentats, a coincidence that would no doubt irritate the fuck out of Danse if Drew were ever to mention the connection. That trademark look told of going places, doing things, having purpose. Also doing whatever you were told and then being able to sleep at night. He sighed. Some people had all the luck. 

Anyway, their initiate used to be part of a nature-movement called the Treeminders back in D.C. The “minding” part was as vague as how she’d she’d managed to stay a virgin until the ripe old age of nineteen, at least until she explained 

“I was going to be a vessel.”

Drew flashed on Roman cults. “Vestal?”

She re-pronounced it, the bigger movements of her lips and tongue, prodding Drew in the nads. He fought it down. Roaming the Prydwen with chub, even given what they were all supposed to be doing later, was something his sponsor would probably frown at. Drew checked to make sure no frown was incoming, but the boys were still talking mods. How they managed with this fine example of a deeply curved back leaning against the very same railing was beyond him, really. 

“When you say “vessel” you mean …”

“The Leaf Mother said Harold’s influence must grow. That if I received some of the Holy One’s pollen that perhaps a sapling would appear.”

Drew’s urge to pry was nearly painful. On one hand he wanted to assume she was talking in metaphors, on the other … well, he’d heard things since coming out of the vault. Plus if she’d really been brought up to have sex with a tree, it would put Maxson’s weird plan into perspective. 

“Makes sense.” It didn’t, but you had to be polite. “How did you end up in this outfit?”

“When I came of age, the One Who Touches The Sky refused me.”

“Sorry. That, uh, had to be tough.” 

Cammi just raised and dropped her pretty shoulders. “The Great One often tests us." 

“Did they kick you out or something?”

"The path of a flower that does not open is to go beyond the Oasis. My friend Linden said there could be a place for me among the Outcasts, but once we arrived, they’d become part of the larger Brotherhood. It still worked. We are similar to the Treeminders in many ways.”

Drew went from zero to worried in half the time it had taken to think up her nickname. “Don’t let the Elder hear you say that.”

“I know.” Cammi flashed a smile that was a lot more canny than he’d given her credit for. “But it’s true. We preserve technology so that it may flower and someday even bear fruit.” 

Drew supposed that was one way to put it. His very intelligent “huh” got lost sound of the incoming aircraft. 

Above Cammi’s heart-shaped face were some rebellious black curls that danced in the wind. They gave her even more of a pinup look than her viola-shaped torso and hips. Even her field uniform couldn’t hide the arsenal of lady-parts she was packing. And though the back of her head was shaved into that same dorky undercut that even Danse now sported since they’d come back from Cambridge, it didn’t make Drew want her any less. Her beauty and charm were the only reasons he’d agreed to this circus in the first place. 

But riding in vertibirds, fuck. Drew’s stomach got tossed around more than anyone’s hair on the trip. Cammi, holding onto a bar near one of the doors, seemed completely fine. She took every shudder and sway in her knees and those big breeding hips. Drew still didn’t get how Rhys and Danse could keep from staring. They just stood by the other door, jawing away, while Drew fought to keep his Instamash down. 

It was too loud to really talk, but this might be the last time Drew would have her alone.

“So you’re really okay with this?” he hollered.

“I already told you.” Cammi, shorter than any of them, stretched up to shout in his ear. 

“Yeah, but did anyone fill you in?” Drew could have kicked himself for that stupid turn of phrase, though it wasn’t like she seemed to care. "I mean, do you know what to expect?"

“Knight-Captain Cade briefed me yesterday.” 

Now that was a bonus. Having The Talk with some near-stranger he was supposed to gangbang wasn’t high on his to-do list. 

“Are you nervous?”

“No. I’m looking forward to it.”

That did it -- Drew had to adjust himself. She was close enough that he could be a little discreet, but Rhys and Danse noticed, of course. The former smirked like they were back at Cambridge and every look he gave the new guy said “amateur”. The latter’s brows came together. Drew could already hear it coming. Blah, blah, unseemly. Brotherhood, yadda-yadda. If the pair of them weren’t the biggest boner-killers this side of the Charles, he didn’t know who was, although at least they were solving his problem. 

The Prydwen was getting closer. Drew could see the flight deck lit up and scribes hard at work. There wasn’t a lot of time. 

“Cammi, if you’re ever not okay with this, I want you give me some kind of signal. Like, I don’t know, say _ad victoriam_ or something. I’ll figure a some way to at least give you a break.” 

She laid a hand on his arm. “You’re sweet to be concerned, but I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, sweet. Like hell he was. 

Danse fell in beside Cammi as they made their way to the fore, with Drew and Rhys behind them. Drew wouldn’t (would not) give Rhys the satisfaction of seeing him go green as they made their way across the gantry. All those slots. Drew could practically see through them, but he kept his eyes front. Even managed to do it without watching Cammi’s butt sway back and forth right in front of him. 

They went all the way forward to the observation deck. A squire got sent to drag Maxson away from whatever Elderly duties were unimportant enough to be interrupted by a ménage. Or maybe this was the number one thing on his agenda. Drew had cooled his heels for an audience plenty of times, but tonight the wait for certain pair of boots on the deck seemed pretty fucking short. 

Quinlan trailed Maxson with a book. A Codex, maybe, from the winged sword and gears on the cover and the way Danse somehow got taller when it was in the room. The four of them stood in columns either side of the Elder, just like that first day Drew had seen him posturing in front of these same windows, although now he stood off to the side as Quinlan read a few things that sounded like quotes and a few more that sounded like precedents. Huh. Maybe this wasn’t just Maxson being hormonal. 

“‘Venture not amongst outsiders until you are truly one with the Order.” the proctor droned on. Drew snuck a look at Cammi and saw a serious, open face. She could have been taking in every word, or just standing there wet as Spectacle Island and trying to kill time, for all he knew. 

“Your names for the Scrolls.” Quinlan passed around a sheet of paper a lot thicker than the onionskin pages he’d been reading from. Drew put ‘Andreas Dae-Sung Choi’ under Gareth Rhys, Julian Danse, and Camelia of Oasis, adding the hangul and hanja for his name in case of Asian archeologists someday. Maxson signed off when it came back around. Quinlan nodded at all of them with satisfaction as he left, like they’d just put their names down for the Brotherhood’s all-star basketball team. 

They got settled on those lounge chairs at the side of the room. Drew estimated the level of awkwardness was about a twenty-three out of ten, at least until Danse killed the lights and shut the door. Cammi stood next to the Elder. Drew expected a few last-minute instructions, or maybe go-go Team Gladius, or whatever. What he ended up saying was 

“You’ll begin with Rhys.”

The Elder spared a glance for Cammi to make sure she understood. Gave her this curt nod. Walked back to the lounger on the other side of the room and sat. 

Fucking hell. Drew knew this was the Elder’s idea, but why was he staying? To order them around? To make sure nobody shirked their duties? As if any of them would turn away from this goddess with skin like a glowing full moon and lips that pouted and eyes that somehow said she knew things even though she couldn’t. 

But that's what Maxson did. Sat there with one hand on a glass of whatever he was drinking and the rest of him in shadow. Crazy as a soup sandwich, that guy 

Drew could have used a shot of that brown liquor, or six. But it looked like Cammi was the only thing they were going to be sharing that night. She was in Rhys’ lap and they were kissing with what looked like a whole lot of being-into-each-other-ness. He was slow and she seemed to like that, running her nails along the knight’s buzz cut until even Drew’s scalp prickled and the chub, with a throbbing hello, came right back again. 

Inside the room it was quiet, although sounds came at them from every corner of the ship, from that bass engine drone to the snare of people climbing up and down the stairs. It was right about when Drew’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the floods bouncing up from the airport that Cammi slid off Rhys’ lap and basically pooled on the floor between his legs — it was that graceful. Drew actually heard the click of Rhys swallowing. Decent reaction. Just meeting Cammi did things to people, so having her gazing up from crotch-level with doe eyes was making Drew's own dick twitch in her direction, despite it naturally leaning the other way. 

Plus she seemed awfully … ready. 

That didn't change when Rhys unzipped and held it out to her — she went right after him, with no hurry but definitely no pause, and that got Drew thinking. Hearing a medic describe an act, knowing what to do, and then having the courage to go through with it were three different animals. A strange man tumescent and in her face didn’t seem to faze Cammi. She licked a stripe up the underside of Rhys, getting him to full-on moan right out of the gate. Again, Drew couldn’t blame the guy. But how did she know? He was expecting maybe Grognak and she was The New England Journal of Medicine. 

Cammi pursed her lips and just sank onto Rhys with about as drawn-out a groan as you’d expect somebody to make under the circumstances. She followed with some bobs of her head, easy and nice. Maybe Haylen had taken her aside and explained — hell, demonstrated — a few things, although as far as Drew knew there were no bananas up in Boston anymore. Fuck. Educational videos? 

Danse was on the other side of Rhys. Drew tried meeting his sponsor’s eyes in a sort of “is this even real?” moment but the paladin’s gaze was locked on where a certain knight’s cock was disappearing into and reappearing from Cammi’s sweet and probably velvety-hot mouth. Okay, no holotape in the world, was what Drew was thinking as Rhys put a hand on the back of their so-called virgin’s head. Drew braced himself to jump in if the fucker so much as thought about holding her in place, but all he did was just stroke the short hairs at the nape of her neck and bite his lips like he was actually the first-timer. He didn’t even thrust into her. He just lay, rag-doll limp as she worked him over, his head on the back of the lounger, Adam's apple moving as he swallowed some more. Lips forming prayers or curses, Drew couldn’t tell which.

It was over fast. Rhys unloaded with hunched shoulders, eyes shut tight, and some kind of grunt halfway out of his throat, clipped like it’d gotten stuck there. 

Everyone else let out a collective breath. God damn. 

It became Drew’s turn to crack a smile. He spared no sympathy for the kid who’d never stopped sneering and questioning Drew’s motives, even though he’d saved the knight’s life outside the police station. Shoulda maybe warmed up before, if he had that short of a fuse, but, fuck, who could’ve known that their lady was the exact opposite of an ingenue. He was starting to think Cade had made the biggest mistake of his career. She couldn’t just be sitting there calmly wiping one corner of her mouth with the back of her hand if she’d never gone down on someone before, could she?

Anyway, now the question was moot. But still. 

She got back up as Rhys recovered, giving him one last kiss. Drew felt extra glad it was dark because his eyes must have bugged out. Their pretty princess just let Rhys taste himself, and from the looks of things, the surly, scowling, Brotherhood-bleeding knight was (and here Drew couldn’t help himself) eating it up. Rhys’ stare was half “what in steel?” and half “marry me.” 

Over on the other side of the room, Maxson cleared his throat. It made Rhys somehow remember himself. He pulled the long zipper on his uniform all the way back up, fucking saluted the shadows across from the rest of them, and got out of there, stage left. 

And then there were three. 

Well four, if you counted the voyeur in the big leather coat. Drew was trying not to count him.

“Well done, Initiate,” the shadows said, shattering the illusion. “You’ll be with Danse for the second part.”


	2. Chapter 2

One thing Drew had noticed about Danse is he never seemed seemed out of his depth, not even the time Cait beat him at arm-wrestling. The same was true of this literal clusterfuck. The first thing he did once Cammi got passed along was to offer her some water. She broke the seal and sipped, only to hand it back and have Danse chug half the can. Drew could relate. He finished the container off when it came his way although his throat dried up again when Cammi started to strip. 

She bent over and unlaced her boots first. Dropped her field jacket and shimmied out of her pants. It was unreal how she held eye contact with Danse right up until her shirt went over her head and then gazed at him again like there’d never been any barrier between them. Cami had massive, beautiful tits that sloped proudly down into perfect teardop shapes. Wide aureolae that blended right into her smooth skin and tiny, jutting nipples. Flaring hips. Gorgeous, feminine legs with every muscle defined, from those huge and creamy thighs right down to the balls of feet that she was standing on for some reason, like she was wearing invisible heels. 

They were sending this off to war? To Drew it felt like a crime. 

Danse was more intense with her than Rhys had been. From the minute she settled onto his lap he covered her neck with kisses, sometimes nipping. It was too dark to see any change in the color of her skin, but Drew could tell by the way she tensed and relaxed, and how she cooed at Danse, that his sponsor had at least a few of the right moves. His hands were on her breasts, on her ass, on that beautiful pad of fat around her belly button. He reached around one thigh and looked like he was exploring. Then she gasped. Target acquired. 

When Danse’s hand came away, Drew couldn’t tell if it was coated in her juices, but she solved that problem for all of them by sucking on Danse’s longest two fingers like an echo of what she’d just done to Rhys. This woman was a force of nature. She made meteors flash all down Drew’s back and out his freaking urethra. He couldn’t remember being this hard without any hands on him, in fact he had to had to grab himself and squeeze so as to worry less about having this behemoth of a boner either make him pass out or split a bunch of seams. 

The first actual word to come out of her was “Danse” and her tone told them all exactly why. She wanted to get filled up and, from all indications, really soon. 

“Okay,” the paladin said by way of apology and started peeling his base layer off. “Just let me —”

The sentence broke in half when she started helping him. 

When he was free, Cammi snaked a hand down to line him up. She tried to sink him, maybe even in one go, but stopped short because, oh fuck, it had to be. She couldn’t because it hurt. Drew saw her wiggle around and clamp that full bottom lip between her teeth as she tried for different angles. 

“Wait,” Danse said. “Let’s be careful.”

“Uh huh.” Her voice was all high and breathy. Drew gave himself another squeeze to keep things in check. Then another not so hard squeeze, maybe more of a stroke. 

Hands went around her hips. Danse warned her with something pitched too low for Drew to hear and then he pushed slowly up as he held her steady. There was a break in the moan she gave, her brows pulling tight, like it really did hurt, except the noise she made was so cute and so depraved, that Drew forgot himself and spurted thickly into his suit. 

Panic at losing control got mixed in with the frantic pulsing of his dick. Fuck. They’d — he didn’t even know — they’d court-martial him or something. They hold some goddamn tribunal with Quinlan, Maxson and Kells accusing him of blowing his wad outside line of duty and how could he have been so selfish when the Brotherhood needed his contribution?

“Are you all right?”

Danse’s baritone pulled Drew out of his bizarre fantasy even as his cock still twitched. He was about to shush the man. Couldn’t he see Maxson was right there and if he hadn’t opened his stupid mouth this could still be a secret? 

Then Drew realized the question was for Cammi. He looked over in time to see her nod. 

“It’ll feel good once you start moving.” Danse explained, “Just give it minute.” 

Cammi didn’t wait long, though. She tried a single thrust. Squirmed around on the paladin’s lap and tried again. 

“Easy,” he urged with his hands sliding down her shoulders into the sinful dip of her spine. Damned considerate when you had this pomegranate getting ready to ride you into the sunrise or moonset or whichever freaking time of day she waned to ride you into. Drew got why Danse had been picked for this. 

When they started to move for real, l it took only a few strokes for her expression to change, from cautiously optimistic to this lighthouse-beam of joy. It made his irredeemable cock pulse like it yearned for her. Which it did. All of him did. He wondered if maybe Danse would last and Drew could get a — literal — shot at redemption. 

For awhile it seemed like touch and go. Cammi had found Danse’s nipples were sensitive and she pinched them through his thin cotton tee as she bounced happily, almost lazily up and down. The way they were silhouetted against the rays leaking in from outside was breathtaking. Drew couldn’t sit still. He fidgeted more than once trying to get the best view, carelessly glancing at Maxson. By this time Drew’s eyes had adjusted enough to see the Elder with the famous coat off and, was he touching himself? 

But Drew didn’t care. The two on his left were so compelling, even before Cammi lifted Danse’s shirt and sent it somewhere behind them. The dude’s nipples got such a working over that every grunt, each puff of air made sense. Every time Danse guided those thighs and whatever magnificence was between them down onto him, she gave a little “oh” of delight. And didn’t that get Drew halfway to hard before Danse even started lifting her, urging her to get up, up so he could pull out and give himself some final, agonized pumps before cumming hard onto his own chest and abs. 

Drew nearly died when she snuck a finger down and tasted that, too. 

“Ad victoriam,” Danse was heard to whisper, looking up at her. That also made sense. They probably needed a safeword more than she did. 

Contestant number two took longer to collect himself and to find wherever his shirt had landed. Maxson didn’t say a word. He sat still on opposite side, except for eyes that tracked everything. Cammi had put her jacket back on and was kneeling in the spot Danse had just left. She stood up to give him kiss goodbye. Danse put his fist above his heart for the three of them and turned to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

It felt almost like being back on ice — though under much better circumstances. Drew couldn’t do anything besides stare as Cammi swayed over to where Arthur fucking Maxson was sitting to lift his tumbler in a silent request for a drink. He nodded — as if he was in a position to refuse her anything at this point — so she poured herself half a shot. 

“Would you like to rest?” he inquired mildly up at her. 

A blithe shake of Cammi’s head. It was the most contented “nope, I’m good” Drew had seen in this post-apocalyptic hellscape. He saw Maxson take something out of the pocket of his coat and hand it to Cammi, who finished her drink and then padded back across the aisle.

Aisles made Drew think of weddings, which of course made him think of the body he’d left behind in the vault. Enough time had gone by since those days of sobbing in the dust of his ruined hometown that he’d come to terms with losing Nora. He he still thought of her though. Particularly now as Cammi sank down over his thighs and started undoing buckles and straps. There was night he and Nora had been lying in bed not long after Shaun was born. Her brown eyes, just inches from his, were unusually serious as she made him promise to find someone else if anything ever happened to her. He knew this wasn’t quite what Nora had imagined. Still, Cammi was one hell of a lot of someone.

She was doing something behind her back now. Drew wasn’t sure of what it was, but with those sweater melons in his face, he didn’t much care. He took one into his mouth. A heavenly vowel floated down, telling him this was exactly what Cammi wanted — or at least something near the top of her list. Her nipple was pebbled when he sat back to look, beautifully sidelit and wet, so Drew had to make the other one match. She was balanced at just the right level for him to enjoy her without having to lean any which way. Her hands were still occupied somehow, so he just spent his time feasting while his prick eased itself back to it’s former glory. 

Her shuddering moan when he sat back clued him in to exactly what his nymph was up to. Glancing around her bicep confirmed it. Maxson was looking really intently at something that wasn’t her legs or her swan-boat neck. Something in between. 

Christ on a bike, that’s what Drew was here for?

Maybe Maxon thought every pre-war guy was a kama-sutra-level pro, but Drew could honestly say he’d never done anal. Not in college, not overseas, not even with the woman he’d loved to the moon and back. He’d seen tapes, of course, and read his way around some of those “totally true” letters magazines, but nothing informed him real women even liked that sort of thing. Not even on that first wild night in Sanctuary Hills - the night he’d taken his beautiful wife on every piece of furniture without boxes on top of it (which was only two and a half, but still)— had he thought to ask for anything like that. 

But Cammi, with those bedroom, or hotel, or observation-deck-of-a-giant-airship eyes, looked readier than any woman he’d ever met, onscreen or otherwise. The innocuous bump of a tube on the seat beside Drew she knew a fair bit about this too. How in seven ghoul-infested circles of radiation she knew all this— and actively wanted it, if her smile was any indication— was something he was going to need to ask her one day. 

She had him scoot way down, his hips nearly on the edge of the seat, and even spread her cheeks apart when it was time — which had to be one hell of a view from where the Elder was sitting, although Drew was sure being inside of her was going to be a zillion times better. And then it was. 

First hot and tight. Then slick and vise-like, Cammi squiggled her way down onto him. They barely paused for a check-in. She started moving almost right away. It was hard to figure out which way to push at first, or how fast. He didn’t want to hurt her. But each time either of them moved she was nothing but these fantastic, wanton sighs. And the way, she clenched around him, fuck. It made Drew glad for that earlier mishap. 

They found their rhythm before long. It was incredible to push little cries out of Cammi with every crank of their one-stroke engine. Her head was tipped back for a while, then sideways, then forward to give him these smoldering looks, or maybe they were giving them to each other. Either way, her slick hands were fisted in the weave of his shirt and she was corkscrewing her hips in a way that made Drew’s eyes roll up and his lids flutter. “Yes,” she kept saying. “Oh please, so good.” She started riding him harder, making that skin-on-skin sound. All he could do was hang on, so insensible he wouldn’t have stopped if Maxson opened the door, called everybody up from the bridge, and let them stand there gawking until the ship pitched and yawed into the airport control tower, taking them all down with it. 

Made stupid with lust, Drew completely forgot to warn her or pull out at the end. He just added to that heat with strangled sets of every curse word he knew, until they were just panting, open mouthed, sweaty-soft fuckdolls in a jumbled heap of bliss. 

They stayed that way — fucked senseless — for who knew how long. Maxson actually came over and took her hand. Normally any guy this close to Drew at a time like that would have needed a steak over his eye in ten minutes, but Drew couldn’t be asked to care. He just registered Cammi climbing lissomely off and being led away somewhere. He had enough sense to get the orange koi-suit up around his waist but couldn’t be bothered to do anything else except lie there, with his arm over his eyes. Maxson could leave or kick him out when they were done talking, he didn’t care. 

Dozing off must have been part of his refractory period because when Drew came around he was getting a crick in his neck and there were sounds. Suspicious sounds. He dared a look out from under his arm and saw Cammi across the room on her back, wearing the coat, with Maxson praising her over and over as he gazed into her eyes and fucked her like they were sweethearts. 

“…unbelievable. I’ve never …” was all that drifted over before the Elder’s words got buried in the side of her neck. 

And she was beaming, as if getting a train run — forget that — being the engineer of a train that happened to involve four guys, was the single best time of her life. 

“Exquisite …” he went on. 

“… Arthur, yes … need your…”

“ … right here. For you, I’d …”

Okay, that kind of talk was above Drew’s pay grade. He wanted to get the hell out but couldn’t even let on that he was conscious, let alone overhearing something on the level of state secrets. 

Then a giggle floated over, high and crystal clear. It was a filthy, beautiful sound. 

“… want that?” whispered Maxson. He seemed surprised. 

“Yes, more than anything.” 

“Camelia, do you swear?” 

“Please, yes.” 

Drew slammed his eyes shut and would have done the same to his ears if there had been any way. But he couldn’t move. Not until they were gone or at least finished. He had to lie there, embarrassed as hell, through their steadily quickening pace, all the growling and moans and the scent of sex so thick in the room Drew couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before. He had to stay pinned as she came not once, but twice, stunned by the knowledge that he hadn’t even thought about that for one second, until Maxson got off with a roar that sounded to an overly-sensitive Drew like a wounded yao guai. The vault-dweller’s third and final erection of the day vanished like it had been snatched up by the Institute. 

The minute — the absolute second they were dressed and, still warbling at each other, out the door, Drew started counting the until he could make a clean getaway. Then he left. Danse was in the canteen, with coffee, admonishing the knight to get his hair in order, pull himself together. Were there any problems? He’d been in there an awfully long time. 

Fine, Danse, everything was great, and hey would you look at the time? Early start tomorrow because missions. Settlements that needed … things. For reasons. He’d be in touch soon. 

“Soon” turned out to be nearly half a year. And even then Drew only came back because he needed a device that nobody else in the Commonwealth could build. He’d tried to find another way. Tried hard. But in the end, only the boys in the big balloon had the knowledge to assemble or the ways to protect this very specialized machine. 

Drew never saw Rhys except in passing. They just nodded, with eyes that slid over each other and away. Danse went out with Drew sometimes to help gather raw materials, but was agreeably silent about anything to do with their “special assignment” — the scare quotes were always there, in his head.

He didn’t run into Cammi until the relay was nearly done. Didn’t even know who she was at first because of her robes, sort of like Quinlan’s or Neriah's, minus the wide belt for a reason that became obvious the instant she ignored every rule of decorum and hugged him in the middle of the storage facility. 

“Knight Choi! It’s been forever, how are you?”

“Good, good, you know, armor to mod, mutants to slay. I’m guessing… congratulations are in order?” Eyes on her face, no lower. Not to the part of her that looked like the Buddha on his ajumah’s mantlepiece 200 years ago in Iowa.

She hugged her burgeoning shape. “Isn’t it wonderful? I’m so grateful to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes.”

“Uh,” A hand went up to the nape of Drew’s neck, scratching the prickle that formed there whenever he had to talk while feeling embarrassed. “I’m not, I mean, I can’t be —“

“For being so patient. Without that time together, the Elder might never have told me his feelings. And I …” She blushed so prettily, he could hardly stand it. “Well it’s what I’ve always wanted. Arthur too.”

Drew’s heart started beating again. For a second he’d thought — but no. And thank god. 

“I’m really happy for you,” he said with sincerity.

“Thank you so much.”

“I should let you get back to your … scribing, I guess?”

“That’s my other good news. I’ve been made head of the new pharmacognosy program. Really, it was shocking what the Brotherhood didn’t know. But now the field teams bring in plants from everywhere. No more shortages of stimpacks, Rad-X, any of it.”

“That’s amazing.”

Her hands went unconsciously to the folds of her robe, smoothing them. “I did want to fight, but this is a better use of my skills, I suppose.”

Not to mention it kept her a lot safer. But Drew had firsthand knowledge that combat and botany chops were only part of Cammi’s very impressive skill set. Which reminded him.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I wanted to ask you something. The night we were all … that night.” He stopped and tried again when she nodded her understanding. “You seemed very …. You really handled things. Like you knew what you were doing. Even though it was your first time.”

He’d been ready to duck, but Cammi didn’t even bat her long, dark lashes. “Well I should hope so.”

Uh, fertilitygoddesssayswhat? “I don’t follow.”

“It’s how Oasis honors Midsummer. And First Fruit. And Days of Half-Night. All of us, together. I could never be part of the rites back then, but I watched, of course. So our night,” she cast her eyes up at the Prydwen, “was so much like home. More than I’d ever hoped for.” 

Drew nodded like it was common knowledge. Of course they had giant orgies where this little earth-mother came from, what could be more natural?

“We’re going to be handfast- I mean, married, you know.”

As a grin split his features, Drew couldn’t help but borrow a phrase. “That is outstanding.” 

An eager nod. “I convinced Arthur we should have the ceremony before you leave again, if we’re going to do it properly. It took some doing, but he finally agreed last night.”

Forget protocols. Drew took Cammi in for another hug. “I am so on board with that.”

Her eyes shone even brighter than when she’d been impaled on him while they were hundreds of feet in the air. “I’m so glad. Danse and Rhys will follow orders, even if they’re reluctant, but I was a bit worried because you’re so independent.”

“Hang on. Follow orders about what?”

Cammi tilted her head. “Why the wedding night, of course.”


End file.
